


To Breathe and to Be

by hivecaptor



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Comfort No Hurt, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jonathan Sims accept help challenge, M/M, Medications, Mild Angst, No beta we kayak like Tim, Sick Character, Sickfic, author is also incredibly sleep deprived, author is projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27774241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hivecaptor/pseuds/hivecaptor
Summary: Tim frowned at him. "You shouldn't take these lying down." Jon hated the look on his face, hated the notion that anyone could be that concerned for him."I don't need babysitting, just give me the bottle-""Let me help, Jon. Please."
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 134





	To Breathe and to Be

**Author's Note:**

> In which I project my illnesses onto a middle-aged archivist.

Jon didn't skip work. Period.

All of his coworkers knew that, so when he heard a knock at the door of his flat, it was less of a surprise than it should have been. Jon didn't get up to answer the door, even when he heard Tim call his name. The fact that he knew something like this was going to happen didn't make him want Tim to leave less. He just wanted to be alone, and for everything to stop _hurting._ He heard Tim open the door and mentally cursed himself for handing over the spare key.

"Jon, are you here?" Jon closed his eyes, trying to block out Tim's voice. If he could only fall asleep, then- "Jon?" The door handle turned. "I didn't want to barge in but you said the key was for emergencies- oh."

Jon was aware that he looked like shit, especially now. His graying hair was tied up in a bun with no real purpose other than to keep it out of his way, and Georgie's old 'What the Ghost' hoodie hadn't been washed in far too long. He felt Tim's eyes on him and hated the worry that he knew was in that look.

"You okay, boss?" Tim asked with a touch of sarcasm. It wasn't like this hadn't happened before, him coming to check on Jon. Still, he seemed to know it was worse than usual, and that was apparent in his voice. Hell, even Jon was worried. He wasn't normally one to pay undue attention to his own health, but this kind of pain after so long was admittedly quite terrifying.

Jon opened his eyes and forced a feeble smile. "Perfectly fine, thank you." He tried to push himself up and hissed through his teeth as a spike of pain shot down his spine. Everything hurt, even his skin where it met the sheets.

Tim rushed forward and guided him back down. "No, don't get up."

The hands on his shoulders hurt too, but he let himself be helped. Jon sighed as his head hit the pillow again. If he could only get up and get his meds, then he wouldn't look so pathetic.

"Tim, I need-"

"I'll get whatever you need, just lie down."

Maybe Tim was right. The small movement had done nothing but hurt him more and his painkillers were borderline useless anyway. The one time he had seen a doctor about the matter, the man only sent him home with a prescription and advice to 'not stress so much.' To think that he would be able to do that was almost laughable. Still, he nodded toward the dresser. 

"Orange bottle, on the right."

Tim set his bag down and picked it up, turning it so he could see the label. "How many do you need?" He asked.

"Three, just give it-"

Tim frowned at him. "You shouldn't take these lying down." Jon hated the look on his face, hated the notion that anyone could be that concerned for him.

"I don't need babysitting, just give me the bottle-"

"Let me help, Jon. Please."

He sighed and closed his eyes. He didn't want to accept help, even something that seemed so innocuous. He was constantly worried about being a burden on the few people he saw regularly, especially since Tim had helped him so much before. The thing Jon prided himself on the most was his self-sufficiency, and who was he if he lost that?

"I- Okay," he conceded.

Tim's dark hair fell over his eyes as he went to unscrew the lid of the pill bottle. "I'm really not trying to babysit you, I promise. It's just," he looked up, "If you haven't even been able to take your meds, then you probably need at least a little help."

"I know, I just-" Jon shook his head. "Help me up, will you?"

Tim did as he asked, his steady grip on Jon's arms gentle as he tried to avoid causing him any more pain. He was careful to avoid Jon't lower back, where it always hurt the worst. Jon hated that he knew that. The movement sent tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, and mercifully, Tim either didn't see or just pretended not to. Once Jon was upright and had a pillow rested behind his back, Tim pulled away.

"I'm going to go get you some water, are your cups in the same place?"

"Right cabinet above the sink."

"Cool," Tim said with a nod and cast once last glance over his shoulder before heading off to the kitchen. 

Jon sighed and tried to relax as much as his body would allow him to. He had been right, moving so much had made him want to scream, and he felt as if every joint in his body was a rubber band waiting to snap. Still, deep down he was grateful for Tim.

Jon had only missed work twice before because of pain, and Tim had come to check on him both times. The first time, he had been too afraid of being bothersome that he had sent Tim away almost immediately, right after he had been passed his medicine and a glass of water. The second time, however, Tim had stayed and almost slept on the couch. He hid his worry under the guise of Elias being angry if Jon missed another day, but he saw through it. Jon still couldn't believe that he had accepted help that time, but was still grateful for it. 

The door opened once more and Tim appeared, water in hand. "Here," he said, and set the glass down on the nightstand.

Jon picked up the pill bottle and shook three into his hand, shooting a glare at Tim when he moved to help Jon pick up the glass of water. He didn't realize how thirsty he had been until he had started drinking, which was admittedly a common occurence for him when he was like this. Any need other than making the pain stop tended to get ignored and pushed off until later.

He set down the empty glass and closed his eyes.

"Do you think you can sleep now?" Tim asked.

Jon gave as much of a shrug as he could manage. "Maybe? I don't know, what time is it?"

"A little after seven. Elias kept us late today, I would have come to check on you earlier, but-"

"It's fine, Tim."

He sighed and began to pick at the sleeve of his jacket. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I couldn't get up to get my meds, what makes you think I could have called you? And you're not allowed to say Siri again."

Tim laughed, maybe genuine this time. "Fair enough. Just- if you can- please try to call me next time. Or Sasha. Maybe Martin, but I doubt he'd do anything but panic and spill tea."

"You're right about that."

Tim picked up Jon's water glass. "I'm going to refill this, do you need anything else?"

"I should probably just go to sleep."

Tim laughed. "That'd be the first time you've said that in who knows how long."

"Shut up and go get the water."

He winked. "Right on, boss."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'The Loneliness Waltz' by The Ballroom Thieves.
> 
> I am once again apologizing for the lack of fic I've produced recently. I'm hoping to get back on track during winter break as school is once again kicking my ass but honestly you love to hear it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this and here I go to disappear for another three (??) months. Hopefully that's a joke.


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